


The Misuse of Radishes

by nouvellebrielle



Category: Saiyuki, Saiyuki Gaiden
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 18:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4846580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nouvellebrielle/pseuds/nouvellebrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone's been committing adultery with Caesar's wife and it's up to Praetor Tenpou to hunt him down and haul him back for justice. Because it is evident that the empire thinks he has nothing better to do with his time or legions. </p><p>It would be a lot worse, except he secretly doesn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Misuse of Radishes

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a serious, tragic, epic fic about gladiator!Gojyo, built upon lofty ideals and too much Wikipedia page-hopping. It has since degenerated into _this_. To be honest, I don't even know what this is. 
> 
>  
> 
> Despite that, it does deserve its own list of warnings:
> 
> 1) There are discussions of dub-con between the two characters that would hypothetically be involved in it. However, all actual sexual interaction stays within the boundaries of consent. 
> 
> 2) This is set in Ancient Rome and as such there are mentions of slaves and women with a casualness that may be regarded as offensive to some but I have steered clear of derogatory references (insults excluded) as that isn't the point of this fic - insofar as this fic actually has a point, which is of course debatable. 
> 
> 3) I know warning number 2 makes it sound like I have attempted to make this historically accurate. That is correct. Warning number 3 is here because I have failed miserably and this plays hard and fast with actual fact. If you're the sort to curl up in agony at wrong terminology or anachronisms, please accept my sincere apologies and I would recommend not reading this to spare yourself a ton of pain. 
> 
>  
> 
> If you're still here, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

‘They sent _you_? That’s overkill, it is.’

 

Tenpou leans against the obscene wall painting and gives a small, smug smile. There’s a chorus of bawdy laughter from one of the other rooms in the brothel but he doesn’t allow himself to be distracted.

 

‘They had the right idea, didn’t they?’ he says, tone conversational although his hand never leaves the hilt of his sword. ‘I’ve found you faster than any of those soft, useless boys you led on a merry chase.’ Of course he has. He knows Kenren like the back of his hand, perhaps better even. Tenpou’s never had much reason to pay attention to the back of his hand.  

 

Kenren sits up on the rough stone bed and scrubs a tired hand down his face. A fleeting wave of fondness washes over Tenpou as he remembers their time together in the military but he quashes it down. No, this situation is by far more entertaining.  

 

‘You’re not serious about hauling me back to Rome, are you?’ Kenren asks.

 

Tenpou shrugs. ‘You _did_ commit adultery with the emperor’s wife.’

 

‘Fuck. Goujun’s altogether too uptight about these things.’ Kenren shudders. ‘So what. He wants to sodomise me with a radish before lobbing my head off?’

 

‘I can’t say for certain but that’s his prerogative, isn’t it?’

 

A prostitute pokes her head into the room to enquire if they need servicing. Tenpou waves her out.

 

‘How do you want to do this?’ he asks. ‘It’ll be less painful for all involved if you would kindly follow me.’

 

Kenren taps his chin as he plays at considering this. It’s pretend, of course. If it were that easy, the emperor wouldn’t have deployed Tenpou at all.

 

‘I could,’ Kenren says slowly, ‘or I could wrestle your sword from you and subject you to humiliating penetration before fleeing for my life.’

 

‘You could, yes.’ Tenpou nods. ‘My pride would prevent me from reporting the incident to the emperor and no doubt I would be in too much pain from your merciless ravaging to give much chase after. Assuming you do manage to come off on top, of course.’

 

‘We _are_ well-matched in a fight. Who’s to say I wouldn’t?’

 

‘Only the gods themselves know.’ Tenpou straightens up and beams. ‘Would you care to try?’

 

Kenren gives him a long look before taking a flying leap out the window.

 

‘Coward,’ Tenpou chides.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It takes a while before Tenpou catches up with him again, this time hiding in the private baths of an aristocratic woman’s summer villa.

 

‘ _Praetor_ ,’ she protests, ‘it is an affront for you to walk uninvited into our home—’

 

Tenpou seizes her and hands her back to her flustered husband. ‘Imperial business,’ he explains with an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sure you understand, Senator.’

 

Kenren’s naked and soaking in the hot water, and he grins when Tenpou walks in.

 

‘Like the view?’

 

Tenpou raises an eyebrow. ‘Does her husband know you’re here?’

 

‘He probably does now.’ True enough, Tenpou can hear the shouts starting.

 

‘How many times do you want to be punished?’ he murmurs, drawing close to the edge of the bath and stooping over to be at eye level.

 

‘That’s a good question.’ The smirk on Kenren’s face is positively lascivious. Tenpou’s reminded of reckless deeds during winter battles. He ignores it in favour of appreciating the view in front of him.

 

‘Caesar’s very unimpressed.’

 

‘Nonsense. He must be at least somewhat approving that I’m offering his army so much opportunity to practice their skills.’

 

‘I don’t know.’ The steam clings to Tenpou’s skin. ‘He’s gone to the trouble to have the biggest radishes sent to Rome.’ He can see right through the water, where Kenren’s got himself on full display.  

 

‘I’m gonna have to disappoint him then.’ Kenren’s usually lazy with indolence. It’s easy to underestimate, to forget that he can move like lightning when he has to. Scalding water flies into Tenpou’s face, blinding him for just the instant it takes before he finds himself pressed up against the cold surface of the mosaic floor, his own blade biting into his neck as Kenren stares down at him with dark triumph.

 

Tenpou lets out a measured breath. ‘How mortifying.’

 

Kenren’s smile has teeth. ‘Isn’t it?’ he agrees. ‘Now be a good man and strip.’ He doesn’t wait for Tenpou to move, one hand fumbling with the brooch that fastens Tenpou’s cloak at the shoulder.

 

‘You’ve always wanted to do this, haven’t you?’ he asks in mild accusation.

 

‘Not denying it. Now are you going to assist me or am I going to have to do all the work here?’

 

Tenpou rolls his eyes and reaches down to wriggle his military tunic over his head. He was careless to forego the breastplate but Kenren’s never shown any inclination to impale him on his own weapon before. He still isn’t. Not _that_ weapon anyway. Assuming that he survives this encounter, he’s going to come in full regalia next time. Two legions worth of support and a whole bevy of spare daggers.

 

‘Very nice,’ Kenren murmurs against his skin, once Tenpou’s naked as the day he was born. He doesn’t miss the way Kenren tosses each divested article into the water like he thinks they need a wash. They may. Tenpou isn’t good at keeping track of banal tasks like the laundry.

 

‘Are you going to have your wicked way with me now?’ he asks, deadpanned.

 

Kenren snorts. ‘Would love to since you’re so eager, but I have other things on my mind now. Maybe some other time, sweet.’ He rolls off Tenpou and to his feet, keeping the sword in-between them as he circles towards the entryway. ‘Now. I know you’re not going to scandalise the good senator by running out there starkers but I have no such qualms. Do a man a favour and take your time dressing, will you? That’s a love.’

 

And just like that, he’s gone, along with Tenpou’s favourite sword to boot.

 

‘Oh bother,’ Tenpou says, as he stares up at the beautiful paintings on the ceiling. Then, seeing as no one is around to call him out on crass behaviour, he adds in a whisper, ‘clitoris.’

 

Outside, the screams start again. Kenren must have made it into the atrium.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

One of the major advantages of the empire is the sheer number of straight roads that lead to Rome. One of the major _dis_ advantages of the empire is that nothing travels faster on these godforsaken roads than news. News of the sordid, salacious sort.

 

‘I’m hearing things about you,’ Goujun comments. He props himself on the arm of his _curule_ seat, unaware that he’s resting on his laurels. Tenpou fails to mention this out of spite.

 

 ‘Funny that,’ Tenpou says through gritted teeth, ‘so has the rest of Rome.’

 

‘What’s that?’

 

‘Oh, nothing important, Caesar.’ A certain villa-owning aristocratic woman’s reputation is going to suffer when her social circle hears about all the skin lesions she’s concealing.

 

Caesar coughs with awkward delicateness. There’s a frown on his face, and he wears the very expression of a troubled man. Tenpou can already tell that his time’s going to be wasted in a spectacular fashion.

 

‘The rumours…they aren’t true, are they?’

 

Tenpou’s smile turns saccharine. ‘Which rumour are you referring to exactly? The one where I enjoy fellating other men or the one where I was brutally taken advantage of by a certain licentious philanderer?’

 

It’s always a joy to watch Goujun turn puce with the effort to keep his emotions under control. Perhaps the only reason why Tenpou even bothers attending senate.

 

‘I’m sorry I asked,’ Caesar mutters.

 

‘For what it’s worth, me too.’

 

Caesar—quite understandably—never brings up the topic again and Tenpou integrates himself back into the tedious humdrum of Roman political life. By which he means arranging for two senators to lose their appointments and scheduling an assassination or two. All in a day’s work for a crafty young man with ambition. He has almost forgotten all about his failed mission when a letter from a long-time friend brings it back to the forefront of his mind.

 

_Ass in Capua. Get rid of it._

Proconsul Konzen’s always been a man of few words and it shows in the content of his communications. Clear and succinct. Tenpou can appreciate. Eager to be out of ennui’s reach, he packs his bags, waves goodbye to the wife he sometimes forgets exists, and heads south with a spring in his step. Nothing can ruin his sudden cheer, not even the band of robbers that he dispatches along the way, seven inches shorter where it matters.

 

‘Glad you’re here,’ Konzen says, blue in the face like he’s choking on his own admission. Tenpou takes it for the compliment it is and accepts the seat next to Konzen on the senatorial podium in the amphitheatre.

 

An hour later and he knows why he’s been summoned from Rome with so little ado.  

 

‘Do they still fight naked?’ he wonders aloud, folding his arms on the banister and propping his chin up on them as he studies Kenren’s victorious pose over his dead opponent. Purely out of academic curiosity, of course.

 

Konzen gives a strangled gurgle. ‘ _That’s_ your only question?’

 

‘I’ve got answers for the rest.’ The sly fox must have given the city watchmen of Capua the slip before selling himself to a gladiator school. Tenpou takes in Kenren’s burnished skin, dark sweat-slicked hair, and his masterful handling of Tenpou’s sword—yes. Very impressive indeed. Tenpou’s very impressed.

 

‘Jupiter help me,’ Konzen says sourly. ‘You’re _infatuated_.’

 

 ‘Then Jupiter’s more likely to help me, isn’t he?’ Tenpou’s answer is reasonable as he pats Konzen on the cheek and laughs. ‘I’ll remove him from your luscious locks, shall I? Maybe you’ll stop being such a grump then.’

 

‘Get on with it. If I have to read any more rude graffiti about his well-endowed prowess, I will gorge my eyeballs out to lay them at the feet of the senate and beg recourse.’

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Top gladiators, it turns out, cost an arm and a leg to purchase. Good thing Tenpou’s always managed to outmanoeuvre everyone through his mouth. No, it has nothing to do with fellatio this time round.

 

‘Shame on you, and on your training school, and on your gladiators,’ he says, then throws in, ‘and on your women, children, and livestock’ for good measure. ‘You’re trying to sell me a freeman at cutthroat price when he isn’t yours to offer! Tut tut. I wonder what Caesar will have to say about that.’ He reclines on the daybed and enjoys every second of the _lanista_ ’s fear. There’s a certain temptation in ruthlessness. Tenpou tries not to abuse it with childish glee.

 

‘Kenrenus sought the training school willingly in exchange for food and lodging…’

 

Tenpou lets out an expansive sigh. ‘Yes,’ he says, nodding in earnestness. ‘The _legatus_ can be eccentric in his hobbies. He does so enjoy pretending to be poor. But we mustn’t let him have his way all the time, you know.’

 

‘ _Legatus?!_ Surely not?!’

 

‘I’m his commanding officer. You would imagine I’d recognise my men on sight. Or are you implying that Caesar made a mistake when appointing me to my post? Have I been in any way incompetent, _Lanista_?’  

 

Kenren is ushered into the room with no further questions asked. He groans when he lays eyes on his would-be purchaser. Tenpou can’t hide his grin, especially since he’s safe behind armour this time.

 

‘Penis,’ Kenren mumbles, crestfallen. ‘Don’t you have anything better to do?’

 

‘Considering the amount of trouble you’ve caused me of late, apparently not.’

 

Kenren flops with boneless frustration onto the floor, weight thrown against Tenpou’s knee as he grumbles to himself.

 

‘If the emperor’s dying for some good old sodomy,’ he mutters, ‘he’s got you, innit?’

 

Tenpou stops running his fingers through Kenren’s hair. ‘Excuse me?’ he says, scandalised.

 

Kenren’s shrug is as ineffectual as it is irritating. ‘That’s what they’re saying here. And in Pompeii. And in Neapolis. And also Cumae, I think—’

 

‘That’s not what they’re saying in Rome,’ Tenpou says in horror.

 

‘Ow, my dearest _Praetor_ —’ Kenren detangles Tenpou’s hands from his hair and presses little kisses to his palms. ‘Calm down, O Wrathful One.’

 

Tenpou wrinkles his nose and pulls away. ‘Stop that,’ he scolds.

 

‘So what’s the rabble saying in Rome?’

 

‘The usual.’

 

‘Ah,’ is Kenren’s sagely reply. ‘I remember that unfortunate sod from the third legion. The one who told the whole army you liked a good grinding on my—’

 

‘Yes,’ Tenpou interrupts. ‘I haven’t forgotten. No need to recount the entire ribald tale.’

 

‘Don’t think he ever recovered from your generous retaliation.’

 

Tenpou has to laugh despite himself. The conversation’s so reminiscent of their days spent blazing through their enemies on campaign that it’s too late by the time Tenpou realises he’s been lured into a false sense of security.

 

‘I am going to kill you,’ he declares, inciting a chuckle from Kenren.  

 

‘Then I best be faraway by the time you get out of your bonds, yes?’ He fastens the last knot—where was he even hiding the rope, up his ass?—and beams down at his handiwork. Tenpou doesn’t snarl in his face but it’s a close thing.

 

‘I’ve been _kind_ , Kenren,’ he says in cold anger.

 

‘I know, I know. Relax. I’m just repaying you.’

 

‘Like _this?’_

Tenpou freezes when a questing hand rakes his tunic up his hips, runs itself along the inside of his thigh with audacious greed.

 

‘No,’ is Kenren’s arrogant reply. ‘Like this.’

 

There isn’t a freeman in his right mind who would suck another man off of his own volition, except Kenren has long-since gone out of his way to establish that he doesn’t have much of a mind to be right or wrong in. Stark, raving mad, he’s like Alcibiades but worse because he’s dragging Tenpou down with him on this slippery path of insanity.

 

It’s a trifle difficult to complain when there’s a hot, wet tongue laving across his cock in languid, indulgent strokes but Tenpou has a history of prevailing where lesser men have failed.

 

‘If you’re going to insist on doing this,’ he manages, ‘shouldn’t you at least put on more of a show?’

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘Congratulations,’ is all Konzen says, after freeing Tenpou with the fruit knife.

 

‘Not a word, please,’ Tenpou replies. ‘He’s gone, isn’t he? I’ve done as you asked.’

 

‘As far as I can see, _you_ didn’t do much at all.’

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

There’s a special part of the realm of Pluto reserved solely for individuals like Tenpou, who have killed too many in their bid to climb to positions of prestige and power. Perhaps if he hadn’t gone into the military, he wouldn’t now be waking up in the sanctuary of his urban domicile to fresh torment.

 

‘Happy Saturnalia,’ Kenren greets, before planting a full-on kiss on Tenpou’s lips. After a moment’s disorientation, during which Tenpou may or may not have responded through instinct, he recovers his faculties well enough to put an end to Kenren’s nonsense.

 

‘That’s unfriendly of you,’ Kenren says with reproach, as he nurses at his reddening cheek. ‘I was partaking in a courteous greeting with you.’

 

‘You were licking into my mouth,’ Tenpou corrects. He folds his arms and looks around at his spartan quarters. He doesn’t have a habit of keeping the slaves about but surely his wife must have noticed a stranger sneaking into her husband’s bedroom. Come to think of it, where did she go?

 

‘Everyone’s partying,’ Kenren says, because he’s always been able to read Tenpou’s thoughts, even when they’re at their most confusing. ‘Your house is a riot and I counted three separate orgies on my way here.’

 

‘And you’re here to turn yourself in as a gift to Caesar?’

 

Kenren chortles. ‘Not in the least.’ He lies back down on Tenpou’s bed, arms propped behind his head as he stares up at the Homeric murals Tenpou commissioned just last year. ‘I’m just saying, it’s been boring, running away from nothing.’

 

Tenpou isn’t sure he heard correctly. Perhaps there was something in the earlier festive drink. ‘Are you suggesting that you _want_ me to chase you?’

 

‘You’re much better at it than your legions. Left a couple of them stranded on Vesuvius, by the way. You may wanna send someone to fetch them, poor kids.’

 

Tenpou makes a mental note to dispatch _Legatus_ Enrai for the onerous task—he never did like the git anyway. Pulling his tunic on, he belts his sword to his hip before turning to face Kenren.

 

‘Well?’ he asks. ‘Shall we?’

 

Kenren sits up with a gleam in his eyes. ‘What do you have in mind?’

 

‘Caesar’s. Let’s get this over with, shall we?’

 

He expects Kenren to kick up a fuss, perhaps even grumble about how dogmatic Tenpou’s become under Goujun’s rule. Instead, Kenren just settles back into the comfort of Tenpou’s bed like he doesn’t intend to leave anytime soon.

 

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ he drawls, with the kind of knowing superiority that sends alarm bells ringing in Tenpou’s head.

 

‘What have you done?’

 

Kenren spreads his hands in a helpless manner. ‘Not much that the rest of Rome doesn’t already suspect.’

 

‘Which is to say…?’

 

‘Someone may have written on the doors of the Senate House that the good _Praetor_ enjoys various penetrative acts with ex-generals and current convicts. I can’t say for certain but last I heard, Caesar’s calling for your interrogation.’

 

Tenpou—for want of a better word—gapes at Kenren. ‘I should have listened to the sibyl,’ he says with mounting disbelief.

 

‘What? Why bring her up now? Load of hogwash she was, that crazy old hag.’

 

‘She said you would be the death of me.’

 

Kenren makes a rude noise. ‘She also said you’ll have fourteen overgrown children and I’ll be bald before marriage. What’s your point?’

 

Tenpou throws a mournful glance at his table, where his reading sits and waits for him every night. He’ll never get through all of it at this rate. ‘Perhaps you would care to explain why you felt it necessary to do this to me.’

 

Kenren hums. ‘To be honest? It’s been boring, running away from nothing. You get what I’m saying?’

 

It’s strange, but despite how reluctant he is about it, Tenpou does.  

 

There’s a commotion at the entrance of his chambers before his wife rushes in, half-undressed and frantic as she wrings her hands in the rich fabric of her clothing.

 

‘Why are the _Vigiles_ here?’ she asks, before noticing Kenren and screaming.

 

Tenpou comes to a decision. ‘Divest her of her jewellery, please,’ he instructs, ‘and gather what valuables you can while I hold them off.’

 

Kenren’s laughter is warm and heady like spiced wine. ‘We’re finally doing this then?’

 

‘It seems so. You’ve seen fit to leave me with no choice.’

 

‘Ah, admit it, you’ve wanted to elope with me since that day in the brothel.’

 

‘Wrong,’ Tenpou says and smiles as he draws his—second-best—sword. It was ever since they stormed a keep with nothing but a handful of their best first legion men, the blood singing sheer exhilaration in Tenpou’s veins as Kenren raised the flag of the empire over the bodies of their enemies.

 

But he’ll die before he lets Kenren in on that. There’ll be no living with him after, insufferable man.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘Damn it, General,’ Rikuou wails once Tenpou gets his favourite soldiers safe down the side of the volcano again. ‘You know I hate heights almost as much as you do!’

 

Kenren chews on the end of his pipe and grins. ‘You asses forced me up. Payback’s only fair.’

 

‘That’s shit and you know it! We were only following the _Praetor_ ’s orders—’

 

‘Focus, gentlemen,’ Tenpou murmurs, pointing at the legion marching towards them with Enrai at the helm. ‘We’ll soon have company. Eizen, take point, please.’

 

‘Yes, _Praetor_.’

 

Tenpou watches with pride as the first legion moves into position, honed through death and devastation into a single unit of solidarity.

 

‘Fourteen kids, huh? I’m worried now.’ Kenren sets down his pipe and leans back against the rocks, presence solid at Tenpou’s side. It’s almost possible to forget that he’s the reason why they’re all in this mess in the first place.  

 

 

‘I’ll watch your hair if I were you.’

 

China is supposed to be nice at this time of the year. Perhaps they’ll stroll over once they’re done here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
